


60 Trillion Molecules

by HalfWrittenWords (Flying_Fox)



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Main quest spoilers, Moody Hancock, Nameless SS, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 11:16:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6564121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flying_Fox/pseuds/HalfWrittenWords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Of course this was what had preoccupied his companion’s mind for the past week. They both knew it, dreaded it; however, they also both knew that nothing was going to change this path they were on. It was an impossibility, like trying to keep water from draining from your cupped hands."</p>
            </blockquote>





	60 Trillion Molecules

    The feeling began to grow in his stomach the moment Tom gave him the list of materials they would need to build the device that would get him into the Institute. It started as a cold stone that lay still and dormant, a weight resting uncomfortably low in his body. It was a mix of hope and fear, but there was something else there as well. An apprehension that flooded more of his system with every component they managed to scavenge. The stone became a fire that gnashed its teeth and bit at his insides, a caged animal eager to be released  
  
    His companion was not known for being quiet and reserved - the ghoul was almost always talking, making sarcastic quips and comments while they explored or yelling taunts and curses at raiders from behind some cover. But Hancock had devolved to one-word responses, shrugs, and a disconcerting lack of attitude whenever he did manage to get a full sentence out of him. His dark eyes lost their cockiness and dimmed with a tiredness that had nothing to do with sleep. And he was more physical as they traveled back to Sanctuary Hills, packs heavy with supplies; he walked close by so their shoulders and hands brushed, lingered at his skin when he helped him bandage any wounds, and threw his red coat over both of them to sleep pressed up against his back.  
  
    When it came time to build the transporter, Hancock went completely silent. He stood on the sidelines, nursing cigarette after cigarette until the ground became a graveyard of butts and ashes. In between tightening screws and welding scraps of metal together, he tried to catch the ghoul’s eye, tried to get a response; but Hancock’s expression was an unreadable mask as he retreated to the chem station behind a nearby rundown house. He was tempted to follow after him, but Shaun’s face and Nora’s voice echoing from Vault 111’s halls turned him back to the work at double speed.  
  
    He had no idea how long he was working until Desdemona laid a hand on his shoulder and he glanced up from the nearly-complete platform to squint at the blazing red sky as the sun sunk below the horizon. He wiped the sweat stinging his eyes from his forehead and stood up straight. He surveyed the various pieces of machinery glinting in the fading light - generators humming with electricity, a console blinking with colored lights, and the transporter itself. The whole thing was a scene out of a science-fiction novel and hopefully, a bridge to his son. Desdemona’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, and he had to ask her to repeat herself.  
  
    “I said, Tinker Tom still has some molecular, math mumbo-jumbo to go over,” she said patiently, “And I think you need a break.” He opened his mouth to argue, but she interrupted him with a pointed glance towards the house.  
      
    “ _Go_ ,” she pressed, steering him away from the work site, “Take care of it.” He sighed and dropped his tools on the ground. The Railroad leader took his place as he tentatively approached the backyard.  
  
    Hancock stood there, bent over the workbench, but not fiddling with any beakers. As he approached, he caught sight of the glowing end of another cigarette trembling between his burned fingers. He took a long drag and blew the smoke up and out. The two watched the dark cloud swirl and turn in on itself until it dissipated completely, leaving behind an acrid odor of stale tobacco. They were alone.  
  
    “That machine’s only gonna work once,” Hancock said, still turned away. His voice was more gravelly than usual, and he ground the spent cigarette under his boot with an unnecessary amount of fervor. Of course this was what had preoccupied his companion’s mind for the past week. They both knew it, dreaded it; however, they both knew that nothing was going to change this path they were on. It was an impossibility, like trying to keep water from draining from your cupped hands. Shaun needed him. But at the same time, Hancock’s hunched shoulders and low voice tore a hole in his chest.  
  
    “I’m going to come back,” he said, coming closer and wrapping his arms lightly around Hancock’s middle from behind, “I promise. I’m going to get into the Institute, I’m going to find Shaun, and I’m going to come back.” Hancock’s chest shook in a mirthless chuckle.  
  
    “You’re so confident about that,” he murmured, “You been stealing from my mentats stash?”  
  
    “I mean it, John,” he said, pressing his lips reassuringly against the mottled neck and gripping the other’s hands tightly, “I told you that you wouldn’t need to run anymore, and I meant it.” Hancock turned, finally, to meet his eyes. He could see the doubt there, the worry and barely concealed despair. With a sudden flash of inspiration, he fumbled at his neck for the silver chain of his dog tags. They clinked against each other and the golden band nestled by them as he gently pulled the necklace over Hancock’s head. They hung over the ghoul’s chest, and he pressed his smooth palm over them to feel the cool metal and the beat of his heart. Hancock shot him a confused look.  
  
    “Keep these safe for me, will you?” he asked, “I want them in perfect condition when I get back.” A slow smile spread across his pockmarked, handsome face, and he reached up to twine their fingers together.  
  
    “Yeah,” he said softly, “I’ll do that.” They stood like that while dusk fell around them, until a crack of electricity and Tom’s excited shouts drew them apart. Each heaved a heavy sigh.  
  
    “Time to go,” Hancock said, stepping away first to move towards to commotion. The other man watched him for a moment before following close behind.  
  
    His skin tingled with energy as he stood on the platform, surrounded in flashing, pulsating blue light. He could barely hear Desdemona and Tom shouting over the roaring noise, but he was only vaguely paying attention to them anyway. He knew what his mission was, and what to do with the holotape, but every other part of him was focused on Hancock. The ghoul paced around the machinery, and his eyes never left him as one hand clutched at the dog tags. The noise grew in pitch, a tube flew out of place with a terrifying blast of air; but it all fell away when Hancock suddenly halted and shouted something that was immediately carried off by the cacophony.  
  
    But he saw his lips moving, understood their meaning, and stretched out a hand to respond. He blinked, his vision blown out with white light broken up only by Hancock’s black eyes. When he was able to see again, his surroundings had changed from the dusty streets of Sanctuary Hills to a stark, sterile room lit with bright fluorescent bulbs. He let his hand fall, and his reply died in his throat. He only took a moment to squeeze his eyes shut. Then, face grimly set, he strode forward into the Institute.  
  
    Time to keep his promises.

**Author's Note:**

> This was basically just what happened in my own game in fic form - I hated having to leave Hancock behind and not being able to tell him I'd come back!
> 
> (also, I haven't written anything in about 7 or 8 years and this wasn't beta'd, so I'm sorry! also also, I find Sole, Nate, insert-SS-name-here awkward, so I just completely avoided SS's name - I hope that doesn't throw anyone off. _Constructive_ criticism is welcome!)


End file.
